Melene continued onward, into anatomical detail that nearly had Virginia’s eyes popping out.
Finally the girl interrupted. “Uh. That, um, wasn’t what I meant I was having problems with. I meant . . . um . . . Romance.”
Melene looked puzzled. “Romance? Isn’t that what we’re talking about?”
Virginia felt her face must be a fiery beacon. “No. You’re talking about sex.”
The rat-girl was definitely mystified. “What’s the difference?”
Virginia felt like a very inexperienced swimmer caught up in an undertow. “Well sometimes, um, romance does lead to sex.”
“Methinks it seems an unnecessary complication,” said Mel, dismissively. “But tell me then, what it is you’re wanting?”
“Well . . . I don’t know.” Ginny wrung her hands. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. Um, in books they bring you flowers or . . . or candy.”
“Instead of giving you a drink? Seems strange to me. Still, humans are rather odd. I don’t think Chip has any flowers or candy.” She paused. “You say you never had a boyfriend? Does that mean you’ve never . . .”
Virginia couldn’t do more than nod.
“Whoreson!” Mel giggled. “Don’t you tell Fal that. He’d get ambitions!”
Virginia shuddered.
Melene laughed outright. “Don’t you let Fal push you around. Bully him back. Tell me, is that the problem? Chip wants to and you don’t? That’s males for you . . .”
“NO! It’s not like that.” Virginia said fiercely. “My nanny told me all men just wanted to . . . But he doesn’t. Doesn’t even seem to want to touch me.”
Melene put her head on one side and surveyed the miserable human girl. “You mean you would, if he wanted to?”
Virginia stopped pumping. Bit her lip. Wrung her hands. “I suppose so. Yes. If he wanted to. I don’t understand. Am I hideous or horrible?”
“Nonsense! Not to humans, anyway,” Melene reassured her. “Chip used to behave almost like a rat with that Dermott-girl. And she also had virtually no tail, and an even shorter nose than you.”
That news didn’t seem to cheer Virginia up.
* * *
The organizing had taken some time. Everything that could be done by hand had been done. Now the welding machine had been trundled out and stood ready. The little five-hundred-liter tank trailer with the one severed bar of the Y hitch had been manhandled into position. The plate Chip was going to try to weld on to secure the hitch was clamped in place. The generator reposed on the one mattress, like some oily yellow mechanical baby. The extension cords had been located and, in one case, fixed. Next to the drill press lay the box of cartridge mines-to-be and the pieces of angle iron Chip wanted to bolt onto the trailer. They needed, somehow, to make a rack for the huge and growing pile of stuff they wanted to take along. The windows had been blacked out. The door was chinked. Chip needed his headlight to navigate towards the jenny. Well, in a minute they’d have power and there’d be an extension light on.
He grasped the little handle on the generator and pulled. Fud-dududu . . . duh again. Again. Again. And again. Sweating, Chip checked the SOB thing out. Ah. Choke. Ooops. On-off cutout.
Fud-dududu . . . fffopoppop pop.
Well, he’d achieved a curl of smoke. Nearly. So he went back to pulling . . . and it didn’t start. He tried it with the choke both in and then halfway in. Not for all the swearing and sweating in creation was the cantankerous thing going to start.
“Methinks it needs a drink,” said a fruity rat-voice from the darkness.
Chip shone his beam savagely at Fal. “Shut up,” he snarled. “Anyone else with bright ideas can try pulling it themselves.”
“I’ll try.” Virginia said, eagerness glinting off her glasses.
Chip knew exactly what would happen as soon as he gave her that starter cable. The goddamn thing would start.
Which, of course, it did. First pull.
Maybe the thing had been flooded by his previous attempts . . . At least it had the decency to die when they put the load on, and then to fail in starting again for her.